Jaded Eyes of a Haunted Soul
by wickedlfairy17
Summary: Sequel to Jaded Eyes of a Prodigy, Something had been taken from him, something precious, and he would destroy all the worlds if he needed to get it back. Along the way Tristan might meet his match. For every Villain there is a Hero, for there can be no Dark without the Light. Will Tristan meet his end, or will he give birth to something darker, violence, LVHP, you've been warned
1. All is Lost

**Jaded Eyes of a Haunted Soul **

**A.N.: lol so here it is the beginning of the sequel! The Song in this one is New Divide by Linkin Park, it's not mine but I highly recommend you give it a listen while you read! J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter, regretfully. Lol **

**Chapter One: All is Lost**

"**Our state cannot be severed, we are one. One flesh; to lose thee were to lose myself."**

**~Tristan~ **

The agony of time rolled on, endless, death would not greet him and so he wallowed in the hollowness that is life without the shadow of death to move it. Tristan had long since given up keeping track of the years; it was a torturous thing to know how long one has haunted the earth with one's endless presence. He thought it must have been a very long time indeed for all his beloved Dark Angels had long since passed and his first Vessel Mother Madeline had long since been dust in the wind.

Tristan walked listlessly eyes unseeing as he thought about his latest life…his most accursed yet. It had started unusually, not to say that anything about his multiple births were _ever usual_ but this one more than most. It was because of Julia…his identical twin. It was something that had never happened before…being a twin…with his accursed existence it was not a good thing. Julia had none of his memories, none of his soul, but sharing the womb had brought along its own unique…trails.

It was evident from the beginning sharing a womb with him had affected Julia to some extent. His eyes were always the same piercing green no matter the 'genetics' of his vessel mothers. Julia had one naturally blue eye but her other eye was the exact same green that had always stared out from his own face no matter the body. It had made Tristan curious, curious enough that he had allowed himself to stay with the wild muggle family that had birthed him.

It just had been _so long_ since _**anything**_ had interested him at all and Tristan hadn't seen the harm since he was by this time so powerful only Voldemort could hope to match him. Voldemort only could boast such a thing since he shared Tristan's soul and as such got the same benefit of continuous magical growth.

Besides staying with the wild muggles had been entertaining and Tristan wasn't above much when it came to finding entertainment after eons of boredom. Some mudblood had managed to free a few muggles a few centuries back and now there were packs of them running around thinking themselves free. It was worth the entertainment value gained from hunting them down that Voldemort and Tristan had allowed them to think so.

Most muggles now had been so long in slavery that they had long since become little better than house elves and were not worth playing much mind to. Wild muggles had some of their old fire back, more willing to fight like cornered dogs than to simply fall to heal like good dogs. Tristan had been so curious about Julia, and wanted to see what sharing a womb with him had done to her. It was obvious from the beginning that she had gained some fraction of his power.

Though Julia did not have the benefit of having lived so many lives like Tristan had. She was a walking disaster, magic wildly swirling around her, and only when she was holding his hand did her magic calm enough to not be disruptive. Tristan had acted the part of innocent child so that he could stay with Julia…his latest vessel mother shamelessly favored him. The vessel mother was always lamenting that Julia couldn't be as 'well behaved' or 'gentle' as her twin brother.

Being a twin was odd, without meaning to Tristan found it ridiculously easy to know what Julia was thinking or feeling. Her raw feelings, one of a fresh soul not jaded from endless years of life affected Tristan greatly. It hadn't helped him that Julia was so like his little Suzie…. So Tristan had stayed with the wild muggles much longer than he would have ever considered otherwise. He was nearly fourteen again before his heart Voldemort had grown impatient and sought him out.

The devastation of his coming had merely been an annoyance, he had killed nearly all the wild muggle pack and only Tristan's protection had saved Julia from injury. Voldemort had been very irritated at Tristan's insistence to treat Julia 'above her station' as a muggle born witch. Tristan had become so disconnected from normal human emotion that he hadn't even considered what the event had done to Julia. To be fair she had hid her emotions well, and being treated as a favored pet of one of the Dark Lords was better than becoming a brood mare slave with no rights.

Julia had been more cunning than Tristan had given her credit for; it seemed they shared more than a bit of power in the womb. Some of his personality must have rubbed off on her as well since she harbored her thirst for revenge patiently with a cold heart. Oh, Julia still loved Tristan as dearly as ever but she suffered from some delusions about him. She excused his willingness to sleep with their 'parents murderer' as being under some spell or enchantment.

Julia thought Voldemort was manipulating Tristan somehow…that his actions weren't his own. So instead of blaming him for her lot in life she became determined to 'save' him. Her definition of 'saving' was very different than Tristan's and that had only become clear recently. The problem with having lived so long, knowing so much, was that humility becomes a foreign word. You begin to _really believe_ there was nothing you didn't know and that no one could possibly hurt you from your perch of superiority.

Once upon a time Tristan had known better, he would have seen through Julia's schemes easily and given them the attention they had deserved. However, it had been a very long time since anything could hope to hurt him that Tristan had disregarded the threat Julia had become until it was too late.

He walked into the room slowly, the absence of noise was disturbing but Tristan was so numb that it didn't bother him. Nothing bothered him anymore…he couldn't feel anything. Tristan found the body just where he had left it, handsome, frozen and mocking him with its emptiness. The problem with getting revenge on an immortal being is that very little can harm them…Voldemort was nearly impossible to kill. A full on duel with someone as ancient as Voldemort would have been suicide for Julia.

Tristan caressed Voldemort's cheek, there wasn't a mark on him, his body was perfectly intact and even now a shallow breath whispered out from expressionless lips. Voldemort had been alive so long, timeless, immortal in all the ways that mattered that it _should have been impossible_ for someone like Julia to harm him. But Julia had been patient, she had taken her time planning her revenge against Voldemort and they both had been blind to her threat.

He sank down and kissed Voldemort's mouth shutting his eyes imagining he was back for a moment. However, it did him little good and eventually Tristan had to open his eyes to reality. The reality was that she had been careful and they both should have known better…nothing is impossible with magic. They had known that once.

Tristan felt Leon come into the room with him, felt his comforting presence envelop him like a warm blanket and sighed. He stepped back from Voldemort's body to stare at his face again. Leon was a quiet sentinel at his back and Tristan forced himself to face the facts. The fact was that somehow Julia had accomplished the impossible…she had killed Voldemort's soul without ever touching his body. Oh, Tristan could still feel the small piece inside of his own soul but that one was so entwined with his own it would never be parted from him.

Even if he had managed it the piece of soul he had left of his heart…his Voldemort…would have not been enough to give him back life. The small fragment of a soul wouldn't have been able to move Voldemort's body. So here Tristan's was, guarding an empty vessel, as dead inside as the body on the table. "What are you going to do?" Leon's voice whispered to him.

"What I have always done…what I must…" Tristan answered.

Life had never been a very comforting thing to Tristan, this endless life had been the worst hell he could ever imagine and yet there had been moments. Tristan kissed Voldemort's closed eyes. There had been moments with Voldemort where Tristan had forgotten the hell and been enveloped in the heaven of his arms. Voldemort was all he had to hang on to…Voldemort had been his heart. Without him there was no Tristan…without him there was no facing this life.

There had been a period of time when Tristan had just kept killing himself. He would make it to two or perhaps four years old of life…the tedium had gotten to him. If he remembered right he had already been through seventy or so lives. He had been desperate for some _peace_ so he had kept killing himself hoping for that one time it might not work. That death would finally come to call him home. It never happened. Eventually Voldemort had managed to talk some sense into him and Tristan had accepted his lot in life…to live eternally with Voldemort.

That didn't mean Tristan had really given up on the thought of peace…he researched…he searched for that way into oblivion. He had learned more magic than most could ever imagine. Tristan waved a hand over Voldemort's body freezing him, encasing him in frozen magic that glowed green and then he shrunk it down.

He picked the emerald from the table that was the size of his fist…inside Voldemort's body laid frozen. Tristan turned from the room then and made his way to his study. Leon followed him a silent shadow, Tristan could feel Alucard's curiosity as he stayed a step ahead of him and ignored them both. Inside his study there was a jar of molten silver that flickered and reflected their faces back at them. Tristan picked this up and then continued on his way.

The room was sealed, exactly how he had left it and he opened it now knowing Alucard would guard the door for him without a word. Tristan stepped into the room, looking about its ruined splendor with indifference and studied the ruin that was his twin's room. Before this had happened he had been so very careful to get her all the best things, silk drapes, Egyptian cotton sheets, furniture carved by nymphs from living wood, clothes spun from the finest silks and all the best books. He had gotten her tutors too, of course, and her own legion of slaves.

Her walls had been delicately painted by the best artist in the land to show a scene of a magical wood, so lifelike that it seemed the unicorns would jump from the walls. Tristan ran his hands over the scorched walls now, it was blackened, its mosaic ruined and he didn't really care. He looked at the empty room, eyes avoiding the huddled figure on the floor, and noted the shattered pieces of what had been a piano.

Perhaps he should have known better, Tristan thought; family had never been a good thing for him. The Potters, the ones who had started this all, had just been the first of the many transgressors that had held the title 'family'. Madeline had been his only chosen mother, later his first vessel mother, and even she had betrayed him. She had been one of many that had cursed him into this _thing_, this immortal life and now he didn't even have the comfort of having his heart beating beside him.

No, Julia had seen to that. He turned cold eyes on her at last, she was a mess, stripped bare she sat huddled in the corner trying to wrap her body in such a way to shield her from his eyes. It did not work. She was pale, skin white from a life pampered indoors, smooth from careful handling and hands soft from coddled handling. Her dark red hair spilled down her back in wild waves, mismatched eyes looked at him with desperation mixed with disbelief, lip spilt cheek red and swollen.

He walked towards her calmly; Tristan contemplated what to do with her when he had gotten the information he needed from her. Death was too good for her. He remembered how he had punished the Potters, how unsatisfied he had been when he finally killed the two of them after he had spent a few years torturing them. Torturing people had lost its flavor, he had done it too much and too well. It was boring now, barely got a rise out of him before his heart had been ripped from him by Julia.

Now without even that small rise, Tristan was at a loose to how to punish Julia for her trespasses. Even he tortured her every day for the rest of the century it would not be enough and it was unsatisfying. He crouched down in front of her naked huddled form as he thought about how to hurt her enough that it was somehow in a small way equal to his pain. Julia reached for his hand before flinching and pressing herself to the wall.

Even now she deluded herself about him, for all her faults Julia loved him desperately in a way that was hard to fathom. Tristan tilted his head, now there was a thought. He had always assumed that Julia had never taken a lover because she had been too disgusted by the eligible men that were worthy of such an act. Tristan would have never allowed her to touch anyone of less than pure blood after all…she was his sister and she could only have the best.

There had been a line of prospects; some soft hearted enough to the muggle filth that Tristan had been sure her interest would be piped. None had gained her interest and Tristan had protected her from any brood mare duties. Voldemort had not pushed the issue allowing him to have a pet in her. Tristan reached out and petted Julia's hair. She shivered but pressed into his hand desperately seeking his gentle touch.

He had misjudge her completely it seemed, Tristan would have laughed had it been in him to do it. Julia, his twin, his sister of the flesh…she wanted this body…her brother…her twin. It was laughable that he was only seeing this now, she had gone after Voldemort not only because he had killed their mother it seemed. He fisted his hands in her hair cruelly not even flinching at her cries…she just didn't understand what she had done.

"Do you know what you have done?" he asked quietly dull.

Julia looked at him through watering eyes, "I freed you! You were trapped here as much as I am by _him."_ She said.

Tristan's mouth twisted, "Trapped, no, I wasn't trapped." He said coolly as he dragged her out of the corner. He slammed the door closed with a push of magic and Alucard along with Leon would understand the warning to stay out.

"Yes, you were, you couldn't see it! I saved you brother! I love you!" Julia said desperately as she tripped and stumbled under his harsh hands.

"You are as blind now as you were when Voldemort came for me," Tristan said dully as he shoved her sprawling at his feet in the middle of the room.

Julia looked up from the floor; her body had small cuts here and there. It was her hands and feet that were the real mess. Tristan ignored it all looking out at her with cold detached eyes. He was finally seeing her clearly now. "Did you think it was an accident? That I only stopped him when he turned to kill you that day? _Had I wished it all those muggles would be alive now_." Tristan hissed as he circled her.

"Voldemort might have ruled his world uninterrupted for centuries, he might sit on the throne resplendent with his crown as the ruler but _**he is not the one who rules here**_." Tristan said as he paced around her. "He rules because _**I**_ say he rules, he moved because _**I **_say he moved. Voldemort was as much _**mine**_as I was _**his**_. And you know how much I _**hate **_it when someone takes something of _**mine**_." Tristan said as he stilled in front of her.

Julia laid there frozen and uncomprehending. She would never truly see him as the monster he was…just as Leon, Madeline and the rest had refused to _see_ the monster. Only Voldemort had stared that the abyss and seen the monster inside of Tristan. Only Voldemort had _wanted_ the monster as he had wanted the person. Without him Tristan was nothing.

Tristan ripped into her mind ruthlessly, uncaring to the pain and damage he inflicted as he did it. There was something he had to know. How had she done it? How had she parted Voldemort's soul from his body? How had she ripped his heart from him? Julia's thoughts were muddled, shielded weakly as he tore down her walls and laid it bare.

She had been so clever…so very clever. It hadn't been one thing, one spell, one ritual; no it had been a combination of a lot of things slowly done over time. A potion slipped into a drink, tasteless, odorless, a cursed jewel on his crown, a spell pressed discretely into his clothes, a ritual from a drop of blood, another potion, all things carefully done over time and it had taken her _years_. That one drop of blood had taken her three years to obtain…it had all been so carefully planned.

Julia hadn't destroyed the soul; hope flared inside his chest, no she had sent it off. It was weakened, it was broken up, and it was not in _this world_ anymore…but it was out there within reach. He could have his heart back. His love was not gone…only misplaced…a needle in a field of haystacks but out there nonetheless. He pulled out of her mind a new plan forming.

She lay panting out on the floor her eyes dilated and unable to focus. Tristan knew the perfect punishment for her, he would not leave her unpunished but it would be not as easily done for him either. A punishment for the both Julia and him for failing to protect what was his once again. He tortured her a bit first, simple crucio, not enough to break her but enough that her entire body would hurt for the rest of her life. The nerve damage he inflicted her ensured she would be in pain until the day she died.

Then he cast a spell on himself so that his body could do what he needed it to. Julia had wanted him to come to her gently; so that her first time would be as painless as possible…he took her as roughly as he was able. It was nauseating, not enjoyable at all but it broke Julia in a way that she would _**never**_ recover from. It was as much his punishment as hers after all. Then he left her sobbing and broken on the floor. He collared her and he would make sure she was well used every day for the rest of her miserable life. It was the least he could do because that had always been her greatest fear after all.

Tristan sent one of the generals to scoop her up from the floor and hand her off to the men. Tristan had locked her magic so tightly within he that Julia would never feel it again…all these things came together to form a suitable punishment if not an equal one. He sent Leon to collect the things he would need and then Alucard to tell the people that he needed to inform of their new positions. They had a short coronation that night, Tristan named one of Madeline's descendants as regent for now.

Mithas Snape was dreadfully intelligent, as gifted as his forbearers in potions and magic. He would be a good regent. Tristan made sure Mithas would see no opposition before he left the castle that had been his home for countless years. Leon and Alucard his only shadows as he went out to seek his heart.

One of his suicide attempts had involved the Veil of Death and it had been moderately successful in that there had been a gap of five years before he had been reborn again. Voldemort had been very upset about this and had Leon hide the Arch away to stop him from using it again. It had been a pointless gesture because Tristan had discovered the hard way that the Arch that held the 'Veil of Death' was not a gateway into the realm of the dead…as most believe.

No the arch was much more than that, but it was incomplete. The arch was a partial portal that actually was a gateway to the space in between dimensions or 'realities'. Tristan had many theories about this, but he had not been able to study the matter more in depth since he hadn't been allowed near the arch after the incident. Tristan held up the jar of molten silver watching as his reflection distorted in its twisting depths. He hadn't been able to study the rifts between worlds but that didn't mean he hadn't dedicated a lot of time figuring out how to complete the arch to make it a true portal between worlds.

It had been the work of several lifetimes but Voldemort had never let him test his results. Too weary that Tristan would step through that portal and never come back. Now though, now Voldemort's soul was out their shattered across the worlds and very dangerously close to fading too far for him to return to life. Souls could not die but they could be recycled and if that happened…there would be no getting his heart back.

It had not taken Tristan overly long to persuade Leon to show him where the arch had been hidden away. It was deep within the wilds of Africa in a jungle that was twisted and infested with many powerful magical creatures. Enough ambient power was in the air to shield the arch from Tristan's searches. But Leon knew just where to go.

Tristan ran a hand over the stone arch. It looked out of place shaped by human hands from stone, all carved and unnatural looking surrounded by the wild untamed plant life. The Veil whispered to him, voices Tristan knew to be millions broken over the endless worlds, words insensible. It didn't matter he was looking for something and he shouldn't be distracted from it. He reached into his magic and pulled on the connection to his Dark Angels.

They appeared around him, even in death, phantoms bathed in darkness…features indistinguishable but he knew them nonetheless. Ghostly instruments were in their hands, figures in the vaguely correct shape and ready to serve him even now. Leon called forth his guitar eager to play with his cohorts once more. Tristan looked out at the ghostly shapes in passing, his Dark Angels had been so well connected to him that he could call them from death's lands even now.

His eyes glowed dangerous green and Alucard smiled all sharp teeth in response. "It has been too long my angels; let us play together once more." Tristan said lowly. He placed his jar of molten sliver on the ground and unscrewed the lid before he stepped back into the circle of his angels. He knew each of them even if they looked like mere shadows with indistinguishable features, he knew them and he heard the music they played. Together they had reshaped the world once, had wiped a plague from this earth and had _won_. They would win again.

**I remembered black skies  
The lightning all around me  
I remembered each flash  
As time began to blur  
Like a startling sign  
That fate had finally found me  
And your voice was all I heard  
That I get what I deserve**

Tristan sang, pouring his considerable magic into it and using the music to channel his intent. The molten sliver flowed up from the jar, a river of it running through the carvings on the arch before it began to flow into the previously intangible veil. It flexed and waved in an invisible wind as the sky darkened ominously with the magic being cast. Leon unfurled his wings as he played listening to the haunting voice of Tristan…the Dark Prince. ****

So give me reason  
To prove me wrong  
To wash this memory clean  
Let the floods cross the distance in your eyes  
Give me reason  
To fill this hole  
Connect the space between  
Let it be enough to reach the truth that lies  
Across this new divide

Tristan watched the newly made mirror as if moved like silver silk before him. He saw his reflection of his latest body, tall, broad shouldered, thick blood red hair, very different from his first and second body. Still his eyes remained the same, fixed, forever that haunted shade of green like dark jade. He moved the magic, and stepped forward to touch the liquid surface of the mirror calling out to the soul that Julia had scattered across the worlds. ****

There was nothing in sight  
But memories left abandoned  
There was nowhere to hide  
The ashes fell like snow  
And the ground caved in  
Between where we were standing  
And your voice was all I heard  
That I get what I deserve

The silver flowed over him painfully; it was changing his body to be the reflection of the matching soul of himself from that world. It was a painful experience as his body twisted in the silver cocoon as he forced himself to continue to sing so the spell would not break. His body folded in on itself, shrank, leaned out, and became something else. ****

So give me reason  
To prove me wrong  
To wash this memory clean  
Let the floods cross the distance in your eyes  
Across this new divide

The silver pulled back when the process was done, and his reflection was changed once more. He stared at the image in curiosity as he sang it was as familiar as it was foreign. He recognized the shape of the face, the wildness of the now black hair, the curve of the bottom lip and the painful leanness of the body. It looked like the first body he had, but at the same time it was very different. ****

In every loss  
In every lie  
In every truth that you'd deny  
And each regret  
And each goodbye  
Was a mistake too great to hide  
And your voice was all I heard  
That I get what I deserve

Alucard and Leon tensed beside him as the veil stiffened as it started to become the portal he needed. It was odd; Tristan almost felt something looking at the reflection of himself in the mirror. He ran a hand over the back of his hand as he caught sight of something in the mirror. _I must not tell lies_. The words were carved into the back of his new hand and Tristan wondered how his counterpart had gotten it. ****

So give me reason  
To prove me wrong  
To wash this memory clean  
Let the floods cross the distance in your eyes  
Give me reason  
To fill this hole  
Connect the space between  
Let it be enough to reach the truth that lies  
Across this new divide  
Across this new divide  
Across this new divide

As the song finished the magic of the veil swelled and Tristan, Leon, and Alucard stepped through it as one. The sensation was of falling, drowning, dizzying and odd. They felt nothing and everything as they passed through the veil between the worlds.

**~Harry~**

Harry was surprised to see the Divination teacher, Professor Trelawney, sitting on Hagird's other side; she rarely left her tower room, and he had never seen her at the start-of-term feast before. She looked as odd as ever, glittering with beads and trailing shawls, her eyes magnified to enormous size by her spectacles. Having always considered her a bit of a fraud, Harry had been shocked to discover at the end of the previous term that it had been she who had made the prediction that caused Lord Voldemort to kill Harry's parents and attack Harry himself.

The knowledge made him less eager to find himself in her company, thankfully, this year he would be dropping Divination. Her great beaconlike eyes swiveled in his direction; he hastily looked away towards the Slytherin table. Draco Malfoy was miming the shattering of a nose to raucous laughter and applause. Harry dropped his gaze to his treacle tart, his insides burning again. What he would give to fight Malfoy one-one-one….

"So what did Professor Slughorn want?" Hermione asked.

"To know what really happened at the Ministry." Said Harry.

"Him and everyone else here," sniffed Hermione. "People were interrogating us about it on the train, weren't they, Ron?"

"Yeah," said Ron. "All wanting to know if you really are 'the Chosen One'—"

"There has been much talk on that very subject even amongst the ghosts," interrupted Nearly Headless Nick, inclining his barely connected head toward Harry so that it wobbled dangerously on its ruff. "I am considered something of a Potter authority; it is widely known that we are friendly. I have assured the spirit community that I will not pester you for information, however. 'Harry Potter knows that he can confide in me with complete confidence,' I told them. 'I would rather die than betray his trust.'"

"That's not saying much, seeing as you're already dead," Ron observed.

"Once again, you show all the sensitivity of a blunt axe," said Nearly Headless Nick in affronted tones, and he rose into the air and glided back toward the far end of the Gryffindor table just as Dumbledore got to his feet at the staff table. The talk and laughter echoing around the Hall died away almost instantly.

"The very best of evenings to you!" he said, smiling broadly, his arms opened wide as though to embrace the whole room.

"What happened to his hand?" gasped Hermione.

She was not the only one who had noticed. Dumbledore's right hand was as blackened and dead-looking as it had been on the night he had come to fetch Harry from the Dursleys. Whispers it the room; Dumbledore, interpreting them correctly, merely smiled and shook his purple-and-gold sleeve over his injury.

"Nothing to worry about," he said airily. "Now ... to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you …"

"His hand was like that when I saw him over the summer," Harry whispered to Hermione. "I thought he'd have cured it by now,

though ... or Madam Pomfrey would've done."

"It looks as if it's died," said Hermione, with a nauseated expression. "But there are some injuries you can't cure... old curses…and there are poisons without antidotes. . . ."

"…and Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Weasleys' Wizard

Wheezes. Those wishing to play for their House Quidditch teams should give their names to their Heads of House as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise. We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year, Professor Slughorn"— Slughorn stood up, his bald head gleaming in the candlelight, his big waistcoated belly casting the table into shadow — "is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master."

"Potions?"

"Potions?"

The word echoed all over the Hall as people wondered whether they had heard right.

"Potions?" said Ron and Hermione together, turning to stare Harry. "But you said —" "Professor Snape, meanwhile," said Dumbledore, raising voice so that it carried over all the muttering, "will be taking the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"No!" said Harry, so loudly that many heads turned in his direction. He did not care; he was staring up at the staff table, incensed. How could Snape be given the Defense Against the Dark Arts job after all this time? Hadn't it been widely known for years that Dumbledore did not trust him to do it?

Before Hermione could comment on it like it was obvious she was gearing up to do a strange eerie voice began to echo off the walls drawing everyone's attention. The words the voice was singing couldn't be distinguished but the sound was there bringing a hush over the crowd of students and teachers. Even Dumbledore was looking around cautiously for the origin of the sound. Then suddenly a wall of sliver erupted from the ground a few feet in front of Harry startling everyone.

People scrambled back away from it and Harry tensed thinking that it was an attack. He got up quickly, Hermione and Ron by his side as they all drew their wands. Something was wrong, the voice was clearer now…strangely haunting…as it sang.

**Connect the space between  
Let it be enough to reach the truth that lies  
Across this new divide  
**

The last line echoed off the walls repeating three times and then the sliver moved warping into three shapes. No one moved, all eyes were trained on the spot as the figured gained features and form. There was a collective gasping of breath as eyes swiveled from Harry to the three in front of the Gryffindor table. It was no wonder, because right in front of him was something Harry had only ever seen in a mirror…himself.

Only it wasn't himself…not really…for one this Harry wasn't wearing glasses and the lightning bolt scar was a scar it looked more like a birth mark than anything. The two Harry's stared at each other eyes fixed, no one moved, no one dared speak a word, and everything was tense. Harry cast his eyes fleetingly at the two others with this Other Harry wondering if he would recognize them too.

Harry didn't recognize either of the creatures standing beside the Other Harry; one was bathed in darkness, skin black, with twisted looking wings sprouting from its back. It looked like a demented combination of a Dementor with a vampire and a person. In short it was very unnatural looking and now that he noticed it…Harry felt something odd. Like a pull, it felt like the exact opposite of a dementor.

The other figure was impossibly tall man, with a row of sharp teeth that was grinning at everyone behind amber sunglasses under a crimson hat. Vampire, that man was a vampire. Harry turned his eyes back on the Other Harry as the Other began to move, looking around with a disturbingly blank face. Harry hadn't ever seen his face so wiped of emotion.

"How _inconvenient_," The Other drawled as he looked around. The words echoed across the hall breaking the silence, there was a surging of shouts, voices rose, Dumbledore started to come across the hall in a rush wand out teachers following him close behind. The Other remained undisturbed and merely waved his hand negligently.

The magic slammed into all of them like a sledgehammer, total silence, everyone froze stiffly just as they were unable to move. Harry felt the magic coil around him tightly before it released him but everyone else wasn't so lucky. The Other turned his attention back to Harry in eyes disturbingly cold as he crossed the room uninhibited. Harry looked at Dumbledore desperately for help, Voldemort was one thing but this Other Harry…his magic was scarily heavy.

Dumbledore's eyes stared at him wildly, making Harry panic realizing that even _Dumbledore_ had been frozen effortlessly in place by a wave of this Other's hand. Harry backed into the wall, the Other kept coming until they were only inches apart and Harry flinched as he froze in absolute panic. Usually he fought, usually his body just reacted before he had time to think about it…but right now Harry felt as if he could do nothing but stand there in fear.

The Other tilted his head at him, "Well you are certainly a disappointment…I expected more from myself. Hogwarts? Really? How droll," he said as he raised his hand making Harry flinch as the Other jerked his chin in a firm grip. "Well, I might as well see what this world has in store for me," the Other murmured almost as a second thought. Then Harry felt the strangest sensation, like his stomach had dropped out of his feet and all his blood drained away with it.

There was a rushing in his mind and a ringing in his ears. His mouth popped open of its own accord and his vision got foggy as a mist clouded up his eyes. When it cleared Harry watched horrified as the silver mist flowed from his eyes, mouth, and ears into the Other's mouth, eyes, and ears. It felt like his entire life was in those vapors that seeped into the Other. When it was done the Other's eyes unfocused and he hummed.

Then after a few minutes Harry watched the Other come back and look at him with a new frightening focus. "You are both more interesting and more droll than I expected." He said his voice loud in the silence of the hall. "I suppose I should return the favor, who knows, maybe you will see me to my desired end. You have _potential_." The Other said.

Harry watched with morbid fascination as the same silver mist began to seep from the Other's eyes and ears. "Of course I won't give you all of them…only three I should think…the most important ones." The Other said as he opened his mouth wide allowing more mist to flow from it. The Other forced Harry's mouth open and the mist rushed into him.

Harry thought he would choke, but he didn't the mist pressed into him through his mouth, eyes, and ears. There was an unbearable pressure on his head, like a headache while his head was put in a vice while someone _squeezed_. When there was no more mist the Other let him go and Harry crumbled to his knees hands pressed into his head. The pressure just kept building, someone was screaming, it was only when Harry felt the cold of the ground rush up to meet him that he realized it was him. Harry was screaming.

**~Tristan~**

Tristan watched his counterpart of this world as he seized on the ground, the weight of three lifetimes almost unbearable to his weak little mind. It would be an interesting experiment, seeing what his counterpart did with his memories and knowledge. It made this interesting; more of a challenge and Tristan wondered if it was wise for a moment. Tristan had only given Harry the memories of three lives, his first, second and last life. The most important ones, even with all the knowledge this would afford Harry, Tristan wondered if it would be enough.

This Harry Potter had contented himself to live under the Dursley's thumb…even now. This Harry Potter had such delusions of about what his life really was and didn't even suspect how deep the old coot's manipulations went. Tristan entertained the thought of killing Dumbledore then and there. His hand went to the emerald hanging heavily from his neck that held Voldemort's body. No, Dumbledore was always Voldemort's to deal with not his.

So Tristan turned his eyes to another he could vent his frustrations on, Snape stood frozen by Dumbledore's side, and Malfoy stood not too far from him. His counterpart hated these two. Malfoy though had a recent trespass that Tristan would not let stand. Leon moved to his side grabbing his hand with his clawed black one. "We should go, time is not our friend," Leon said voice a gentle whisper. Tristan shook himself, he had lost himself for a moment…the memories he had copied from his counterpart overriding his better judgment.

This Harry Potter felt things so wildly, all fire in suppressed passions, so much so that it made Tristan feel the shadow of them as if they were his own. Interesting. He had never felt emotion as this Harry did. Tristan cast eyes on the slumped form of Harry, he had blacked out from the pain of assimilating the foreign memories. How disappointing.

"Come then Alucard, Leon, we must find the pieces here swiftly if we are to strengthen him," Tristan said as he moved to leave the hall. When they got to the doors Tristan carelessly waved behind him gathering his magic to return to him. Alucard placed his hands on the two of them and they dropped into shadow. Tristan did hope that this Dumbledore would move swiftly otherwise Harry would be comatose for much longer than was ideal.

**A.N.: For the sake of simplicity from this moment on my Harry will be Tristan from the Jaded Eyes of a Prodigy Story and so will be referred to as Tristan from here on out. The other Harry is canon J.K. Rowling until my Tristan came in and messed with him in the beginning of the sixth school year. So just so you guys know, Harry was completely canon until this point to avoid confusion. So all the events of the previous years are canon, the summer after fifth year is canon, everything is canon for this Harry up until the point where Tristan made his grand entrance! As always please Read and Review! Hope you like it tell me your thoughts on this sequel of mine! It been brewing in the back of my mind for a while now…what would canon Harry think about my Harry…lol well we're about to find out! **


	2. The Kingdom of the Mind

**Chapter 2: The Kingdom of the Mind**

"**The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven…"**** –John Milton**

**~Albus~**

Albus Dumbledore was unaccustomed to being impatient, as with most men his age he had gotten used to having time spread out before him but now his time was so preciously short. He looked at the dead husk that was his hand with apprehension; it wasn't that he was afraid to die because he was ready for a good long rest. No, what Albus feared most was leaving while Harry still needed him…leaving while the world still needed him.

He turned his gaze back to the boy in the hospital bed with a bit of impatience again. Harry had been unconscious for three days now and he was the only one who could answer his questions. Harry had knowledge passed forcibly by that other boy that had born a striking resemblance to him and Albus needed to know what Harry knew. There was another player on the field, a powerful one, and it was an unknown factor that needed to be accounted for.

Madam Pomfrey had to call in a Mind Healer that she had trained some twenty years prior to help the poor boy since she did not have the expertise to help him. The first time in living history she had to call in an outside force to help her heal someone. Hanley Brooks was a muggleborn that Pomfrey had trained while he was attending Hogwarts when such things had been allowed. It had been interesting to see the man work, he used a combination of magical and muggle medicine that was plainly fascinating.

Albus was quite impressed with the man as he very honestly found himself out of his depth when listening to Hanley speak about his observations. He had said something about minor surface damage to the hippocampus, with overstress on the amygdale and that Harry had been very close to irreversible brain damage. Luckily Hanley was the foremost expert in Mind healing and was exceptionally skilled otherwise there had been a good chance Harry would never have woken up.

As it was Harry was out of danger and Hanley had returned to St. Mungos as all that was left for Harry to do was wake up. Albus wasn't sure what he was expecting to find out when Harry finally woke, but it was better than nothing. He had not been able to track the other Harry's movements at all and it made him very nervous having him out there with no way to keep tabs on his movements. It was worse than facing this war with Voldemort; at least he knew Tom's personality and could predict his actions somewhat.

Harry bolt up suddenly from the bed giving Albus a nasty jolt at the unexpected action and startling him from his thought. Harry looked panicked; he was looking around wildly and getting steadily paler by the moment. Before Albus could stop him Harry stumbled out of bed and promptly lost his stomach contents very violently across the floor. "Harry, my dear boy, perhaps it would be best if you came back into bed," Albus said.

At the sound of his voice Harry turned around, looked at him with wild eyes and ran clumsily across the room folding himself into a corner. He huddled there clutching his head and rocking himself eyes wide and unseeing. Madam Pomfrey had come in the middle of his fit and was slowly cautiously trying to approach him. She had vanished his sick and cleaned him up with a wave of her wand. She coaxed Harry out of his corner but Albus was very concerned.

"I killed them…I killed them…I killed them all…they're all dead…dead…dead…dead…corpses…everywhere…get it off me…get it off me!" Harry mumbled before grabbing Madam Pomfrey by her shoulder and shaking her. "Get it off! There's so much blood! Get it off of me!" Harry screamed at her hysterically. Albus was very concerned now and before he could stop her Madam Pomfrey had knocked the boy out and placed him back onto the bed.

She never said a word as she got Harry settled and then began binding him to the bed. "What was that?" Albus asked dreading the answer.

Madam Pomfrey looked at him, looking as old as he felt at that moment and then she sighed sadly. "That, my dear Albus was a psychotic break that Hanley warned me about. I'm honestly surprised this has not happened before, honest Basilisk bites, those dreadful dementors torturing him at every turn, that awful woman Umbridge. In simple terms Albus our dear Harry here has experienced the equivalent of a good hundred years of life in the span of a minute. It will be some time before he will be able to recognize where he is or even who he is." She said sadly before bustling back into her office to attend to a potion she was brewing.

Albus waited for her to be firmly in her office before putting wards around Harry's bed to keep sound from traveling before Albus woke him up. He looked around wildly; struggled against his bonds for a bit before Harry began to talk to himself again. "So much fear, so afraid, don't hurt me anymore…_please_ Uncle Vernon…why…it hurts…why…can't breathe too afraid…" He said.

"Harry my boy, Harry," Albus began trying to get the boy's attention.

Harry's eyes whipped around staring at him intensely but at the same time it was like he was staring _through_ him. "What are you remembering Harry? Tell me everything you're seeing my boy," Albus said soothingly.

"I'm so scared…my back's all bloody…Uncle Vernon's never taken his belt to me this bad before…no he has…he does this all the time…no he doesn't…he broke my arm once but he doesn't like touching me…no he hits me all the time…his eyes track me…he is going to kill me…he wants me dead…no I'm safe in my cupboard…no it's a tomb…I have to _get out_…no this isn't me…yes it is…no…I stayed in my cupboard until I was eleven…no I ran away…so much blood…" Harry said rambling eyes distant and unseeing.

"What blood Harry?" Albus asked. He tried to keep a cool head listening to some of the facts Harry said so he could make sense of it later.

"There is so much blood…it's all over…I have to get out…no they'll never let me go…I have to kill them…so scared…so much fear…the knife makes it too easy…blood everywhere…they struggle but I _have to do it_…no this isn't me…I didn't kill them…yes I did…I loved it…I loved watching them drain of blood…no I don't…I have never hurt my relatives…yes I have…I killed them in their beds before I ran…no I didn't this isn't me…but it is…" Harry started to shake his head in denial.

"What have you done my dear boy?" Albus asked sadly.

"Nothing!" Harry screamed, "Tristan…that was the name he gave himself…Tristan…he killed them…he liked it…he did it…not me…but I could have…I could have…if I had it as bad…no I wouldn't…I'm not Tristan…no Tristan is me…Tristan is what I could have been…why…why can't they _**leave me alone**_…so frightened all the time…their eyes…they want to rip me apart for being a freak…" He said then he screamed.

"My back…those monsters…they're not human…nothing but muggle filth…they carved freak on my back but they're the freaks…they should all die! No! This didn't happen to me…yes it did…they held me down…no…they laughed as they took the knife to my back…why won't they leave me alone! This isn't my life…yes it was…I'm Harry just Harry…I don't want to hurt anyone…yes I do…I want to hurt everyone…everyone should be forced to feel this fear…this _**pain**_…no…it'll do nothing…no…stop hurting them…why am I hurting them…I love this feeling as they scream…no I don't!" Harry ranted as he thrashed against his bonds.

Then he had eerily still, "She is like me…they look at her with the same eyes…they are monsters waiting in the dark…they want to eat us all…so scared…but she doesn't see it…she doesn't see their eyes…I can protect her…then maybe it won't hurt so much…" he said then his face twisted in pain and he screamed, "my heart…my heart…its ripping apart…why are they alive…they shouldn't be alive!...they are supposed to be dead…dead so it's not that they left me…why did they leave me here in the dark?" his voice got very young sounding…like a child who had his first heartbreak.

"I'll show them all…I'll make them all feel this pain…not afraid anymore angry…so angry…they _abandoned me_…I'll tear it all apart…I burn it all to the ground…it burns inside me…so angry…so angry…I'm choking on the anger…I have to hurt something…I can't keep it all inside of me…so angry…no this isn't me…they're dead…no they weren't…yes I heard her die…I remember hearing her scream as she died…but I am still so angry…" Harry said as he strained against his bonds.

Dumbledore could take it no more he freed one hand and held it with the one hand he had left. He had to try to comfort the boy. Harry squeezed his hand painfully; his eyes stared into Albus' face and focused for a moment. "He has done so many bad things, Professor, he is me…I'm him…so angry…all this _**hate**_…"Harry said before his eyes went distant and he began mumbling again incomprehensively for a long time.

Albus sat with him for hours, listening, trying to make some sense of it all, "He is so dark…trapped inside the darkness…so many go into the dark to help him…but he doesn't feel them there…no…he hates so deeply…" Harry said. Then he sucked in a breath, "no…he loves someone as much as he can…he loves him…Voldemort!" Harry shook his head in denial. "No! I don't love Voldemort…yes I do…desperately…we can be monsters together…I feel him in the darkness…he hates as I do…he wants to burn it all too…he knows my pain…together we kill them…together we kill them all!" Harry said laughing feverishly.

"We killed them all…I wiped them from the face of the earth…all gone…bye bye muggles…" he said laughing madly, "no I didn't…yes I did…no… the world isn't like this…yes it is now…we did this together…Voldemort…my lover…my heart…we changed the world…magic runs wild again…I didn't…but I did…I killed everyone…"Harry said haunted. Albus paled, hand clutching his heart he wondered what evil had come into the world.

**~Tristan~**

He walked calmly down the street with Leon and Alucard by his side. The muggles scurried out of their way like roaches when the light turned on and it brought the faintest feeling of disgust to him. It was like stepping into his past, before he had wiped the world of this plague and made the utopia for all magical beings. Leon stepped closer to him and all the disgust he was feeling was sucked away leaving him blank of emotion once more.

Tristan nodded to Leon, and then turned his attention to following the tugging feeling of his soul that was calling out to the piece they were tracking. Soon they had left the small country village behind and came upon the gates of a great manor made of iron with beautiful ornate designs. Peacocks called out from the grounds beyond the gates, Tristan felt a welling up anticipation…the piece of soul was so close.

There were wards around the property of course but Tristan just cut through them as he forced the gates open. Alucard was smiling, tense, hoping for Tristan to unleash him on the occupants. Leon stayed silent, gliding steps barely making a sound as he followed on Tristan's trail. More wards were sliced through effortlessly as they tried to stop their advance and soon the Manor was in view. It was slightly less than what Tristan had been expecting, it was very ostentatious but it lacked elegance that the gates had hinted at.

The doors were made of heavy oak, old, carved with beautiful designs and layered with so many spells that it almost gave Tristan pause…almost. Nothing would stop him from his goal, it was so close he could feel the soul reaching out to him inside these walls and the yearning inside it echoed his own. The doors blew apart as he pushed them open and the sound brought a rushing crowd to the entrance hall to meet them.

The black cloaks, the bone white masks, Bellatrix's gleeful face, it was all so…nostalgic. Tristan waved his hand with barely a thought blocking the veritable rainbow of spells that had been flying at him with ease. The soul piece sang, and Tristan's patience ran thin. "Alucard…go play…" Tristan said. The words had barely left his lips before the master vampire rushed off into the crowd, "Don't kill too many," Tristan said as blood spurted from the first victims neck.

Alucard laughingly nodded, "You too Leon, I'm sure there is someone in there that you can get something from," Tristan said. Leon nodded his slightly before rushing in after Alucard small smirk on his lips the only thing betraying his anticipation. Tristan simply walked through the crowd as if they were nothing flinging away any who tried to stop him. They flew into the walls like rag dolls and soon they just stepped out of his way as soon as he appeared.

The hall Tristan found himself in was empty with only a throne chair at the far corner and sitting in the throne was someone oddly familiar. From his counterparts memories Tristan knew him to be the Voldemort of this world but he was so vastly different from his own in appearance that it was hard to process. This Voldemort had none of his Voldemort's handsome features, his face was oddly snake-like, eyes glowed red and he was bald.

This Voldemort was painfully thin; he looked like he was stretched over his skeleton and barely a part of the physical world. Tristan felt the stirring of sadness looking at him…how far this Voldemort had fallen. Tristan walked calmly forward, he could feel the soul so close now and he searched the room with desperate eyes. Voldemort was sneering at him caressing the wand in his hands threateningly, "Harry Potter…to what do I owe to your lovely presence…" Voldemort said.

Tristan noted that his voice was strained, like his body wasn't quite complete, and looking it over with critical eyes Tristan noted that it wasn't. It amused him a little to be mistaken for his counterpart, "I am not Harry Potter…as least not anymore," Tristan said lightly as he got closer to this Voldemort. The man tensed, Tristan felt his magic welling and then he felt it. The soul, Tristan smiled manically and pressed his magic down onto the man.

The pressure of it froze Voldemort in his place and a look of surprise flashed across his face. Tristan paid it no mind; he climbed into this Voldemort's lap eyes searching for something in his red eyes. His smile lit up his face and Tristan leaned in close to the man's face. Voldemort got the distinct feeling that the boy wasn't looking at him even though the green eyes studied his face intensely from uncomfortably close. "There you are my love," Tristan said as he cupped Voldemort's face.

Voldemort said not a word, this was very odd and he didn't know quite what to say. "Aren't you clever my love, hiding yourself in your counter parts ravaged soul will give us more time! So clever," Tristan said eyes half lidded. Before Voldemort quite knew what was happening the boy that looked like Harry Potter pressed his face forward and captured Voldemort's thin lips in his own with passion.

If Voldemort had any doubts that this boy wasn't Harry Potter they washed away right then. Harry Potter would not kiss him, did not have this amazingly addictive power, did not blow through wards like they were paper or have dark creatures under his command. With little else to do Voldemort let this boy kiss him passionately and just stared at the boy's face as he did so. Then, something stirred inside of him, something foreign that he had not noticed before and it welled up forcefully inside of him.

His arms circled around the boy by their own accord pressing the boy harder against his body, his mouth attacked the boy's of its own accord and with horror Voldemort realized he wasn't the one controlling his body. "My love," the boy whispered into his mouth as they kissed. It was very strange being a spectator inside his own body. Then images flashed through his mind, images of a life he had never had but had always desired.

The masses bowed before him, the muggles called him master; the whole magical world bent to his will and at his side was the boy who made it all possible. The one that was as much a monster as he was a god and this life ran parallel to the one he knew. He remembered pain, of splitting apart, desperation to not fade away, to not forget, finding this twisted shadow of himself, and burying himself deep within the shattered pieces of his soul. The soul was so weak, too many pieces were broken off, insanity and numbness would ensure his counterpart would never even feel him here.

Voldemort blinked and broke away from Tristan's mouth. Tristan smiled at him, "My love," he sighed as he looked at him face glowing with relief. Voldemort's smile twisted across his face, "We knew you would find us my soul," Voldemort said his voice oddly doubled as if two people were speaking at once. "We are merged right now, but we can stay this way for long otherwise you will not be able to separate us," Voldemort said.

Tristan nodded, "I'll take care of this body for you my love. We have much to do and very little time in which to do it. Let us hope the other pieces had enough in them to do as you have done and then we will have a bit more time." He said as he caressed Voldemort's face. "How far we have fallen, my love," Tristan said as he looked at him. He pressed his face into Voldemort's thin chest reveling in the feel of the arms around him. For a moment he closed his eyes and imagined they were home…that none of this had happened.

**~Harry~**

A life not his own flashed through his mind in pieces and made it hard to realize where exactly he was. Harry knew that this life, this horror, wasn't his own but it _felt_ like it was his. It didn't help that there were people he recognized, different but the same. A girl with a warm smile crowded his vision, _Suzie_, and a pain laced through his heart. Screams filled his ears, he felt warm slick blood on his hands, bathing his body, and a heartbeat of power drummed inside of him.

Harry was drowning in magic; he felt it dancing across his skin and inside of himself. Already Harry could feel the edges of his memory slipping away, of his true life, of his true self and he desperately held on. This wasn't his life, this wasn't his pain, this _wasn't him_, but it **felt** like him. In a moment of panic Harry knew that if he didn't sort this out soon he would lose himself inside of this and he was afraid of what would come out.

Frantically Harry pulled up some of the new knowledge that had been pressed upon him, and he began to use that in tandem with what he could remember of Snape's occulmency lessons. He forced his mind to go blank, there was only himself, in his purest form, only himself, but who was he? He was Harry Potter, images of both the lives of 'Harry Potter' pressed in on him and he struggled to separate them. In one he remembers the loneliness of the cupboard, and the ache of his empty belly.

In another he is in too much pain from Vernon's lashings to even think of his stomach or the loneliness…only the desperate clawing fear that threatened to kill him. The process was slow, Vernon breaking his arm, another Vernon breaking his rib, and there was _just so much more_. There was just so much more Tristan than there was Harry, at least memories wise, and it made it hard to keep a hold of Harry.

There was just so much _pain_, and _**fear**_. Tristan had been afraid for most of his childhood, afraid he was going to be killed, afraid he would just disappear and no one would notice. That fear had turned to anger when he had seen his parent; the image still hit Harry hard…a world where his parents had _abandoned_ him to the tender mercies of the Dursleys. Harry would like to think he wouldn't have turned into the monster Tristan had become had he experienced the same treatment.

Harry _wanted_ to believe he wouldn't have taken out his pain on the world hand systematically killed his own family. Harry wanted to think he would have been a better person than this…but no matter how hard he tried to turn away from it the thought was there. Tristan's life had been even more similar to Voldemort's than his own. Abandoned by the ones that should have care for them, hurt over and over for what they were…Tristan and Voldemort walked down the same path.

Their fear, that choking crippling fear had turned to anger and they had struck out. That anger slowly morphed to an unabridged hate as they grew older and the world turned crueler. Never finding true acceptance, Harry imagined the Voldemort had a very rough time in Slytherin as a 'half-blood'. That hate, that deep dark hate that burned like a raging hell fire inside of their hearts had turned both Tristan and Voldemort into the darkest wizards Harry had ever seen.

Harry could understand their pain, could see how it had twisted them into the monsters they were…and yet…he could not condone what they did to the world around them. Like a bright beacon in the darkness that thought repeated over and over helping him tame his monster that Tristan had place inside of him. Evil like Tristan, like Voldemort, needed to be faced. Evil such as them could not be left unchecked otherwise all the light in the world would dim and die.

It was more than any foolish thoughts of right and wrong. It was more than even the light verses the dark. It went deeper than that, meant more than that, standing up to people like Tristan and Voldemort meant more than that. It mean facing the darkness inside your own heart, it meant standing up for yourself and knowing who you were in a fundamental level. Harry had never wanted to be the hero, never wanted to have the role…be in that limelight…but now he was beginning to realize something.

Helping people, standing up to bullies like Tristan or Dumbledore that was something Harry _needed_ to do. Not what he _had _to do but what he _**needed**_ to do. Harry needed to do it because no one had ever done it for him. No one had stood up for Tristan, for Dumbledore, no one had stood up for them and now they were trapped forever in that painful darkness. They would never heal from the wounds that society and cold indifference had struck.

But if Harry could stand up for others, could be that person that reached out while others turned their backs then maybe one day there would be no more Voldemorts…no more Tristans. He wanted to help people, not because everyone expected him to be some 'chosen hero' but because it was a part of who he was as a person. Harry was the one that rushed in when everyone stood back, Harry was the one that stood up when everyone else put their heads down…and that would never change.

He would face the pain, he would bear the horror, he would look at the monster he could have been in the eye and he would not turn away flinching. He could have been Tristan, there was no getting around that, if circumstances had been different he could have been the monster that reveled in others pain. However, he was not, life had dealt him a different hand and all his challenges had shaped him into something very different.

Harry wasn't naïve, he knew he would make mistake, he would make the wrong choices sometimes and he would have doubts. Harry knew all these things but it didn't matter it all came down to a choice. A choice between what was right and what was easy. It was not about the right way, the wrong way, these do not exist…only their way and his way. His way, his choice, his conviction to help not hurt that was what he had to remember.

The knowledge Tristan had forced on him had made Harry open his eyes to the _facts _of his own life. It had forced him to see his life through new eyes and really understand all the pieces together as a whole. Harry saw now that Dumbledore was as much a bully to him as Snape was…he had just been nicer about it. Dumbledore thought he had the right to dictate his life for the good of everyone else but Harry. Dumbledore did it with the best of intentions, with only the good of the world in mind, but it still did not change what he had done.

Dumbledore lied to him, manipulated him, treated him more as a tool than as a person, and he had designs for him to die. Harry could see that now, because now Harry knew that he had to die to defeat Voldemort. If Harry was honest, the thought of death frightened him because he had so much he wanted to do. Yet, if it meant saving more children from Voldemort's and Tristan's fate then Harry would do it. It was all so much to process, all this new knowledge, all these thoughts that weren't his, and keeping a hold of himself.

As the world came into focus for the first time in five days Harry saw that Dumbledore was peering down at him with open concern. This upset him as much as it warmed him and it was very confusing. Harry sat up slowly, wondering why he felt so sore and looking around. Dumbledore was the only one around and it reminded him of waking up first year after the debacle with the stone. "How long?" Harry croaked as Dumbledore handed him a glass of water.

"Five days I am afraid, three unconscious, two raving mad," Dumbledore said lightly chuckling at the end like it was some joke eyes twinkling.

Harry looked at him, his eyes caught sight of Dumbledore's withered hand, "The withering curse, nasty thing that, slowed the effects I see," he said as the knowledge pressed forward inside his mind. "How long until you die? Three months, four if you're lucky and don't cast any magic I expect," Harry said off handedly as he sipped from his glass.

Dumbledore looked at him gravely, "And how would you know that my boy?" he said seriously.

Harry tapped the side of his head, "It's all here, inside of my head, jumbled up and barely useable…but it's there. Tristan made sure of that," Harry said.

"Tristan?" Dumbledore questioned.

"My counterpart, but you already know that." Harry said, "You know I am not even really upset you lied to me, I know you probably had your own reasons, I'm upset because from now I can't believe you." Harry said suddenly as h looked away from Dumbledore.

"My dear boy, what are you talking about?" Dumbledore asked voiced colored with growing concern.

"You lied, Dumbledore, a lot, I see that now. The prophecy wasn't the only thing you lied about, the bit of soul in my forehead, why you placed me with the Dursleys, and now that I have given it some thought you have probably lied to me about a lot more that I will never know about." Harry said indifferently as he shrugged.

"Harry, I know you don't want to hear this but I did have very good reasons…" Dumbledore began but Harry cut him off.

"Oh, I know, you probably have a thousand reason why you lied…to make it okay not only for me but for you as well. Still, it makes it very inconvenient to not trust the 'leader of the light' as you're called. No matter," Harry said sipping his water again, "I'll tell Snape how to brew the potion that will reverse the withering curses affects the war effort will be nothing without you spearheading it."

Dumbledore startled looking at him with intense eyes, "That's very kind of you Harry, or are you Tristan now?" he asked cautiously.

"I'm Harry, just Harry, I have a hold on myself but I won't lie…there is a bit of Tristan in here too." Harry said easily.

"And just who is Tristan?" Dumbledore asked eyes burning with curiosity.

Harry looked at him again at that, green eyes burning with intensity, "Tristan is the monster I could have become had circumstances been a little different. He is actually a lot like you Dumbledore, even has the same relationship with a Dark Lord he was fated to kill but he turned from that fate long ago. Just as you turned from Gilbert when Arianna was struck down Tristan turned to Voldemort when the hate inside of him became too much for him to bear on his own." He said.

Dumbledore flinched as if he had been struck, "What?" he asked shocked and hurt.

"Oh, I know about how you loved him Dumbledore, because Tristan knew. They had a right laugh when they had found out, Tristan and Voldemort, about Gilbert. Thought it was funny that your life had been so close to being like theirs." Harry said softly. "It's a frightening thing isn't it? How our choices shape who we are so effortlessly that we don't even notice it? Not only do our choices shape ourselves but they shape other people as well, not always for the better," Harry said softly…painfully.

Dumbledore looked pained, like he wasn't quite sure what to say, "Harry…I…" he began only to be interrupted again.

"It could have been a very different world had you held out your hand and not your fist with Tom you know," Harry said determined to be the one in control of their conversation for once.

"What do you mean Harry," Dumbledore asked.

"I mean that had you approached Tom with care, with understanding, with a little tenderness, had you seen a hurt little boy and not the monster that bias muggle woman Mrs. Cole had painted for you. Perhaps all this would be very different." Harry said evenly. "Hindsight is a cruel mistress though, you did not do the right thing when you introduced Tom to the magical world…he did what was easy. There is not a way to change that I'm afraid so we must face the monsters you and your counterpart created." Harry said looking up at the ceiling.

"Monster _I_ created Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, you and another you in another world, you created two very powerful monsters because you thought you knew best." Harry looked him in the eye again, "Like you always think, you thought you knew better, that you were entitled to make the choices above everyone else and it paved the path to hell with your good intentions." He said.

"In the world Tristan came from, life had been cruel to him; he is what I could have been. He was Harry Potter, before he chose his own name life Voldemort and abandoned the name he had been given for one he chose. Your counterpart thought that it would be better for Tristan to live with the Dursleys in the muggle world…even though in that world his parents were still alive." Harry continued.

"In that world the Dursleys weren't just neglectful and emotionally abusive…in that world they beat him. They hurt him all the time until one day Tristan thought that if he didn't do something he would die…so he went up to their rooms and at the age of six he became a murderer. All because like you, your counterpart wanted him away from the world that would make him arrogant with praise and attention." Harry said.

"Voldemort was the monster you created here, Tristan and Voldemort both were monsters your counterpart created because_ he thought he knew best_." Harry looked Dumbledore dead in the eye and asked, "Do you know what Tristan has done? Could you handle it if you did? If you had the memories of your counterpart as I do?"

"What, what has he done?" Dumbledore asked quietly in resignation.

"They destroyed everything, they burned the world down that they came from and built up something so different that you would not recognize it. Tristan killed almost the entire muggle population, wiped everything they had built from the earth, buildings crumbled, and from the ashes Tristan built a world were no magical had to ever hide again." Harry said slowly. "It was as terrible as it was great, the whole of the world gifted back to the waters and the wild." He said voice trailing off.

The problem was that depending on how you looked at it Tristan had both saved and destroyed everything. It was Tristan's memories that gave Harry the perspective to admit that. For Tristan it had never been about ruling everything, in all honesty Tristan was just so tired of the pain he welcomed death with open arms. However, Tristan did not want to take his own life…that would be like admitting defeat and that was something he could not do. He had been fighting too long to just give up.

Tristan had hoped to die in battle, he had wanted to die as he had lived…fighting. The problem was that Voldemort hadn't been willing to just let Tristan go quietly into the dark…he had selfishly cursed him with eternal life. Eventually Tristan lost hope of ever facing a foe great enough to give him that last battle…to defeat him and give him peace. With a jolt Harry realized something; Tristan hadn't given him his memories to play fair…a life for a life or some such nonsense.

No the reason Tristan had forced his memories on Harry, the _potential_ he had seen, it was that Tristan _wanted_ Harry to stop him. "He wants a 'hero'; he wants someone to stop him, because he can't stop himself." Harry mused out loud. "He wants someone to fight." He said as Dumbledore looked at him with an odd expression.

"What do mean my dear boy?" Dumbledore said.

Harry looked at him, "Tristan, he wants someone to kill him…that's why he gave me his memories…_he wants someone to fight him_." Harry said. "He's _**bored**_," Harry said in astonishment, "He has been winning so long…he doesn't know what it's like to lose anymore. He wanted to die…but Voldemort wouldn't let him go. He's hoping I will figure out how to kill him," Harry said paling and looking a bit sick.

**~Leon~**

Leon watched Tristan kiss the Voldemort of this world bemused, it was ironic, no matter the world Tristan was always drawn to Voldemort. He looked at his black clawed hand, feeling the strength in it that would fade soon. There was this big hole inside of him that sucked all the strength out of him so quickly it was hard to even make himself move sometimes. Leon wondered if this was what it was like for Tristan, this endless dark hole that stole all the good feelings right out of him.

The reason he had taken on this burden had never changed, he loved Tristan, and even though Leon knew Tristan would never love him back…he couldn't stop loving him. Alucard chuckled from behind him, demented fucker, and placed a long fingered hand on his shoulder. "I haven't seen the little one this excited in a long time," he said in his deep silky voice.

"Yes, he seems rather excited doesn't he? Julia might have been onto something…Tristan was made for strife…he will never be content with peace," Leon said in a raspy voice.

"No, he wasn't made for peace," Alucard said agreeably.

"You're in an oddly good mood," Leon retorted.

Alucard gave him a sharp grin full of teeth, "Oh, I am in a _very_ good mood," he said chuckling.

"Do I dare ask why?" Leon said darkly.

Alucard chuckled, letting his feet sink into shadow, "Oh, it's quite simple, there will be blood…lots of blood." He said.

Leon looked at him darkly wondering what he was getting at. "Really, that room full of wizards and witches not enough for you." He said.

"You misunderstand my little shadow…Tristan is going after the pieces of Voldemort's soul…you saw how upset he was at the muggles running free reign…he won't let it stand. You know…every world we go to…there will be blood…" Alucard chuckled darkly as the shadows swallowed up his face leaving only his gleaming eyes and shining teeth visible. "I'm not the only one that craves blood…my little Master would have made a great Vampire…a pity…" he said as he disappeared.

Leon hated when Alucard did that sometimes Leon swore he did it just so he could have the last word. Though once he thought about it Leon had to agree with Alucard…Tristan shook the very foundations of the world just by stepping into it. If Leon had been a religious man he might fancy worshipping Tristan as the force of nature he was and leave it at that. However, there was something bothering Leon…why had Tristan given his counterpart his memories?

If Leon was inclined to make a guess he thought Tristan might want his counterpart to try killing him…but then again that was the thing about Tristan. The moment you thought you knew him…the moment you thought you knew what he was planning…he did something entirely different. Leon doubted even Tristan truly understood himself sometimes…which begged the question…what was his Dark Prince planning?

There was something more about this than Leon could see at the moment…something that Tristan saw and was using already. Leon thought that he should see about visiting Harry Potter soon…perhaps he would see it better after he talked to the boy that looked like his Prince…but wasn't. There was one thing Leon knew for certain…life had just a lot more interesting since Julia had sent them on this quest with her foolhardy actions.

**A.N.: lol and that's a wrap! Woah…I didn't think I would finish this quite so soon but here we are! Anyways please read and review! I love hearing your thoughts! On a side note I'm in the middle of finishing up writing my own children's book that I plan on publishing! I wrote and illustrated all by myself! Lol I'm quite proud of myself! **


	3. The Fallen

**Chapter 3: The Fallen**

"**Awake, arise or be for ever fall'n." –John Milton**

**~Tristan~**

The Voldemort of this world was very different than the one he had known, he wasn't anything like his heart…and perhaps that made it easier. There was just so much more he needed to do and he couldn't be distracted by a shadow of his love. Voldemort, this world's Voldemort, writhed underneath him in pain as Tristan fixed the man's body. He watched in fascination as black hair sprouted from his bald scalp, as a nose began to protrude from his face and his body twisted painfully as it filled out.

Where before there had been an emancipated shell of a powerful man there was now a man restored and reborn as a serpentine Titan. This Voldemort now had a complete body, one that would serve him well, but his soul was still a mere sliver. Tristan could not restore the man's soul, with it his sanity, without endangering his love that lay nestled inside the shadow of Voldemort. He resigned himself to dealing with the madness as it came and controlling the man should it be needed.

Tristan left the man on the floor of his throne room and made his way through the manor to clean up the mess Alucard and Leon had made. Surprisingly, Alucard had only killed one death eater and it was just some man who looked ravaged by time. Rookwood, if Tristan remembered right. With a wave the blood was gone and the body was as well. He left the ravaged death eaters to care for themselves and made his way outside.

He had one piece, one small piece of his love back and there just wasn't enough time. Tristan looked up at the sky…well he would just have to get some more time then wouldn't he. "My Prince," Leon said in his quiet rasp from behind him. Tristan didn't take his eyes off the sky above him as his green eyes glowed. "Leon, it seems that there are some things I must settle in this world before we move on," Tristan said as he turned his eyes to the horizon.

"I thought as much," Leon said simply.

Tristan looked back at Leon, "I'm curious about something," he said evenly.

"My Prince?" Leon asked lightly.

"I want you to go visit my counterpart soon," Tristan said much to Leon's surprise.

"May I ask Why, My Prince?" Leon said cautiously.

Tristan's eyes were calculating as he stared through Leon and at something beyond, "He has potential," he said ominously.

"Potential?" Leon urged on hoping to get some insight into his Prince's thinking.

"He is what I could have been…what I can never be…I wonder how he will react to you my lovely one," Tristan said as he turned back to gazing at the horizon.

Leon knew he would not get any more out of him and bowed, "As you wish my Prince, I will visit your counterpart soon." He said as he left his Prince to his unphantomable thoughts.

Tristan caressed the emerald that hung heavy around his neck, his love's body laid inside froze and giving him little comfort. "What will you do, I wonder," Tristan whispered, "What will you do when everything around you crumbles…will you rise up against me…my little mirror…or will you join me…" the darkness of the night held no answers. Tristan smirked as he felt himself stir inside as his newly awakened emotions rolled inside of him. He had taken his world with hardly any effort; no challenges laid back there for them any longer…but there were whole universes out there. Perhaps, in one of these worlds he might find a challenge worthy of his efforts.

**~Harry~**

Harry sat in the bed in the hospital wing and looked out the window without seeing…lost in his thoughts. His hand drifted up to his scar feeling the pain Voldemort was going through distantly and wondered about the other Harry/Tristan. Just thinking about the sheer power that his counterpart had…the things he had done at _fourteen_…Harry couldn't help but feel…inadequate in comparison. It made him think about what the sorting hat had told him, _you could be __**great**__ you know…it's all here in your head_, and for the first time Harry wondered.

Wondered what could have happened if he had taken that chance…if he had chosen _greatness_ over recklessness. Tristan's memories were a real eye opener for him…and not just about the subtle manipulations he had missed…it showed him things he had never even thought to think about before. Harry was bitter about his relatives, they were not nice people and their treatment of him was deplorable...yet so was the behavior of all their neighbors.

The people who saw…but did not **act**. It put a whole new perspective on things, they had seen how hard he was working, and they had to have noticed the contrast between Dudley and himself. They had noticed the ragged clothes, the submissive behavior and the flinching every time someone touched him. No one could be so blind as to not _see_ something so obvious…could they? If they saw they didn't act on it, joined in more often than not to the Dursley's irrational hatred and left him to rot on his own.

Muggles were more dangerous than most wizards knew…that was something that Tristan had highlighted well in his memories and thoughts. Before Tristan there was no magical equivalent to the muggle weapons of mass destruction and in fact there were no safe guards in place for such things. The magical population of Japan had almost been completely wiped out at the end of World War Two as Hiroshima had been one of two highly populated magical areas. The other magical community had been in Okinawa and they had barely just started to recover from the hit.

Harry had never really considered what could happen if the magical world was exposed to the muggles and now he had Tristan's terrifying imagined scenarios playing out behind his eyes. Restrictions, forced registration, concentration camps, purges, burning at the stake,_ experimentation_, mass panic…the Cold War pressed down on him…weapons of mass destruction launched at magical communities. A whole race wiped out, the earth scarred beyond repair…and magic winked out of the world as if it had never existed.

Because that was likely that would happen if the muggles knew about the magical world that hid in plain sight around them. They would find out all those monsters that they had thought were imagined really did go bump in the night. Vampires, Werewolves…dementors…and when people were scared they did horrible things to each other. Harry feared discovery now more than he did facing down Voldemort because at least if he died fighting that maniac then at least the world he loved would still go on.

There was a very real possibility that if the muggles found them…all he had grown to love…Hogwarts…magic…all of it…would be gone in an instant. His hands were clammy in a cold sweat and Harry wasn't sure what he was supposed to do now. Dumbledore would be back soon with the entire Order and Harry had to figure out if he was going to warn them. If he _should_ warn them…about what Tristan would likely do to this world soon.

Harry knew for certain that Tristan couldn't sit back and do nothing about the muggles now that he was here. No. Tristan hated them too much for him to just let it go but it took time to prepare what he would do. It took time, it was delicate work Harry remember all the time he had devoted to gathering the right ingredients…the rituals needed to conjure such a destructive force. If Harry warned them…told them what Tristan could and likely _would_ do then they could prepare.

They could try to stop him…but should they stop him? Before Tristan's memories…before this had happened Harry would not have hesitated…he would have rushed in to save the muggle race without a second thought. Harry could admit to himself that deep down Harry didn't **want** to hurt anyone…that he was something of a pacifist. However, now, after spending days trapped within Tristan's thoughts and memories…now Harry wasn't sure what he should do.

For all Tristan's madness there was _reason_ behind his cruelty…logic behind the insanity…and Harry found himself paralyzed by it. Harry could understand the draw Tristan had to other people…it was hard to resist him even now…knowing everything he had done…Harry couldn't find it within himself to hate Tristan. Harry felt plenty of righteous anger, some pity, and maybe a little disgust…just no _**hate**_. Tristan drew people in because he unashamedly himself…all of it…the danger…the madness…all of that only added to his appeal.

It was wrong but Harry couldn't help feeling attracted to the madman. Attracted not because the man wore his face…or that he could have become Tristan…attracted because Tristan was so sure of himself. Tristan never once allowed anyone to manipulate him; he fought and died for his beliefs without flinching. Tristan refused to cower, refused to back down when the war he had started with the muggles was at first so heavily in his enemies' favor. Tristan didn't turn his back on greatness like Harry had…Tristan had allowed himself to be greatness in human form.

Harry didn't like his cruelty, didn't like his insanity, or his unflinching desire to hurt/maim/kill people. However, Harry had to admire the man that he rebuilt an entire world in his image before he had even become an adult in the eyes of the world. How was Harry supposed to compete with that? Yes, Harry had Tristan's memories…his knowledge…but Harry was nowhere near as connected and in tune with magic as Tristan had become.

All Harry had to work with was knowledge, and even that was dubious at best. Harry wasn't sure he could bring himself to _use_ the incredibly dark magic he knew now…if he even _could_. Yet Harry couldn't just stand useless on the sidelines as Tristan destroyed an entire race…could he? Hadn't Harry decided that he should be the one to stand against Tristan because he was the only one who stood even a remote chance? Hadn't he told himself that he wouldn't lay back and let Tristan destroy everything he had ever known?

"Hello," the raspy voice echoed across the wing and startled Harry badly.

He whipped around to see where it had come from and found the dark winged figure that had followed Tristan into this world. Leon. His mind supplied Harry with the name and his heart squeezed painfully as the man's life swam to the forefront of his thoughts. The man that had sacrificed everything he was to become a monster to save Tristan…the one that loved him but never got love in return. "Hello," Harry said in return for lack of anything else to say.

Leon walked to his bed from the shadows of the corner in which he had appeared and sat on the edge of Harry's cot lightly. "You are not what I had expected when my Prince brought me into this world with him," Leon said as Harry felt that odd pulling sensation once more at Leon's proximity. It was like the exact opposite of being near a dementor…all Harry could think or feel was good thoughts. It put him off guard and relaxed Harry against his will.

"What were you expecting?" Harry asked lightly eyes half closed in blissful peace.

"I am not sure, my Prince is a very unique person…I had thought you would be more similar to him," Leon said his voice deep and rumbling. It sort of reminded Harry of Snape's velvety voice…only rougher and more soothing.

"How do you know I am not? Similar to him that is," Harry said sighing as a wave of comfort washed over him.

Leon smiled his teeth sharp and white contrasting starkly against his pitch black skin. "My Prince was generous enough to share some of the memories he had stolen from you…you are very different from my dark prince," Leon said gently as he lowered the hood of his cloak. For some reason Harry thought he probably should be more frightened than he was…but he just felt so _good_.

Leon's face was not the visage he had been expecting, it was full not withered…he looked almost handsome in a scary dark way and Harry thought his eyes reminded him of the night sky, endless and infinite, drawing him in effortlessly. "Is being different from him bad?" Harry asked silly grin on his face.

Leon looked at him in surprise and chuckled, it rumbled inside his chest like a purr from a cat. Harry liked the sound. "No, different in a nice way, I fear the universes could not handle more than one Tristan…he is one of a kind," he said it fondly and Harry was reminded that this man loved his prince deeply enough to spend eternity in torture.

"Why are you here?" Harry asked trying to put his scattered mind in order.

"Truthfully? I do not know, my Prince said I should come to see you and so I have come. I do not know what he expects to come of this but I have learned to not question him." Leon said lightly running a clawed hand through his black hair.

Harry felt strangely disappointed, "So you are here on his orders," he said face carefully blank. He tried harder now to not fall into how good he felt around Leon…how safe…because he was very far from being safe in the man's company.

"Why, yes, of course. I have spent my life serving him why would I stop now," Leon asked rhetorically.

"Why do you do it? Why serve him? You know he cannot love you, you know he cannot be saved, why do you stick around?" Harry asked suddenly needing to understand what made people stay with Tristan…even when they knew he was insane.

Leon looked at him carefully, calculating, "Let me ask you this…you have some of his memories…right? You know what he accomplished in his world of origin… do you not?" he asked leadingly.

Harry slumped, "He killed a lot of people Leon…an entire race killed and subjugated." He said tiredly.

"He did more than just kill people Harry, surely you can see that?! He made our world a paradise; sure some people still suffered under their rule but…what regime is perfect? Yes, he wiped out the muggles…but can you honestly say that wasn't a good thing?" Leon said earnestly.

Harry felt conflicted; this was what it came back to, what he had been debating with himself even before Leon had brought it up. "I can't let him do it; you know that if you know the slightest thing about me, I have friends who have parents in that world. There are good people out there…they're not all monsters like the Dursleys or the people who hurt Tristan," Harry said with more conviction then he felt.

Leon's wings twitched, "I know that, I knew that then and I know that now." He said and Harry tried to interrupt him before Leon raised a clawed hand asking for silence. "It is not as straightforward as you would like to believe, yes there are good people out there…but in war there are no right or wrong sides…only the ones who are left in the aftermath. One day it will come down to a choice, Harry," Leon pointed a clawed hand in a general direction, "Them," he pointed his claw at Harry, "or us."

"It's not that simple!" Harry said anger flaring for only a moment before it was drained away making him feel only emptiness.

"No, it won't be…no matter how it happens the confrontation _will_ be ugly and it will come down to who strikes first. Because they _will_ strike out at us Harry…that is a certainty…whether we survive or they do…a war is brewing. One day you will have to pick a side…one day soon you will have to choose…between upholding your morals and saving the magical world. Because in war…there is no room for ethics." Leon said solemnly.

Before Harry could reply to that the door opened and Leon disappeared as if he had never been there. Only that lingering feeling of mad warmth told Harry he hadn't imagined the man's presence. Dumbledore had brought a mob with him and Molly Weasley practically suffocated him with her hug. It made Harry feel guilty in a horrible way as he remembered what Tristan had done to her family in his world as it had been him.

The noise from all the Order members trying to talk at once was deafening but eventually Dumbledore silenced them. "Now, Harry, my boy, if you could share what you have learned about the latest threat to the light." He said gently as he began conjuring chairs for people. Harry felt oddly enough like he was addressing D.A. again, then he paled thinking of Tristan's D.A. and looked down at his hands. Snape was sneering at him and Harry shivered thinking about Tristan's life as the man's first child. What a disturbing thought.

"His name is Tristan," Harry began his eyes shifting over the crowd and caught Remus' encouraging face. "He comes from a world similar and very different than ours. He is the Harry Potter of that world…or at least he was once." He said.

"Be clear foolish boy," Snape hissed.

Harry found his venom stung less when he thought of being tucked in at night, his deep voice reading a fairy tale…and shivered. "I am trying, it's all very confusing, you see in the world Tristan came from he…well…I am not sure how to say this…the short version is this. Tristan by the time he was _fifteen_ had wiped out the muggle world _**completely**_, and he along with Voldemort snuffed out the entire Light resistance. In the final battle Tristan had been wounded…he was dying…and in order to save him Voldemort well…cursed him." He said.

Dumbledore looked confused, "I am sorry my boy, why would Voldemort…" he trailed off as if the answer already occurred to him.

"It was a ritual; he killed Fawkes and cursed Tristan so that he can _**never**_ die. Every time Tristan dies he is reborn as some unlucky mother's baby…all his memories in place and all his magic from before he died." Harry said as he watched the crowd pale. Harry debated with himself for a moment before he forced himself to say it. He locked his eyes with Snape, "The first time he was reborn, it was as your child Professor Snape…there was this woman…her name was Madeline…she had adopted Tristan before all this happened and she and you…well…you were involved…part of the ritual was that your first child you conceived together had to be sacrificed as Tristan took over its body…I'm sorry sir…I thought you should know because Tristan was…fond of Madeline…he might seek you out." Harry said as he watched Snape's face go pale then a bit green.

"There is just so much," Harry said as he pressed his hand to his forehead headache quickly forming behind his eyes as he tried to sort out what to tell them.

"It's alright my boy, take your time," Dumbledore said gently.

"Tristan grew up very differently from me…he snapped early on…imagine Voldemort…only with a single minded focus on destroying the muggle world," Harry started as there was a collective gasp and Tonks fell out of her seat. "You cannot even imagine…there are just no words to describe…what he can do…" Harry looked up at them desperately looking a little green as he admitted, "I think he will seek out Voldemort and if Tristan decides to help him…there is very little we could do to stop him." He said seriously.

"Surely there must be some way, you have his memories," Tonks protested before Molly shushed her.

"You cannot understand…Tristan…he is in a whole other league…he knows magic that most could only dream of…he only gave a small fraction of his memories…he's been alive so long that I don't know… I don't know if I could stop him even if I tried…" Harry said softly his words echoing across the quite wing.

"Surely there must be something we can do," Remus said strongly.

Harry looked up at him and knew he had to tell them, "That's the thing we aren't just dealing with Tristan, we are dealing with Alucard, Leon, and his Dark Angel Wraiths. Alucard is an ancient vampire…more know him as _Dracula_…Leon…Leon literally turned himself into a monster of darkness to save Tristan when he did the ritual. Leon…Leon is a manifestation of Tristan's evil…Leon bears the weight of Tristan's sins. When Tristan marked his followers…he gave his inner circle, the Dark Angels, special marks. Their souls are bound to him for all eternity but since Tristan cannot die they cannot move on and yet they cannot live either. They are stuck in a half-life. Neither alive nor truly dead, they wait for him to call them forth to be of service to their Lord and Master."

"Perhaps, Harry, it would be best if you started from the beginning. Tell us all you know of how Tristan started his life, and then perhaps we can fully understand what you are trying to tell us." Dumbledore said kindly.

It was like a heavy weight pressed down on him, because to tell them of Tristan…meant telling them of himself. To tell Tristan's hurts…Harry would have to reveal his own…and it was something not even his dearest friends knew in its entirety. However, Harry had told himself that he would fight this darkness, this evil the Tristan had brought with him and there could be no turning back now. If he turned his back on this Harry knew with absolute certainty that he would not be able to fully commit himself to fighting Tristan.

"Tristan's early life was similar to mine…yet **very** different as well." He kept his eyes firmly on his hands; he didn't want to see the pity as it blossomed on their faces or Snape's scorn when he told them. "My relatives…hate magic…anything abnormal," Harry's hands fisted showing his scarred hands words in stark clarity. "Tristan's relatives were the same…they hated magic…they hated him…however where my relatives were content to starve me and lock me in my cupboard…Tristan's took to trying to _flay_ the magic out of him. From the time he was dropped off on their doorstep they beat him, locking him in his cupboard…they were beyond the cruelty I face. Eventually, one day…when Tristan was about six…he just…snapped…he couldn't take it anymore and he went up to their bedrooms and slit their throats one by one." Harry said as the entire group gasped and he kept his eyes firmly on his hands.

Harry would have to tell them, have to show them how much worse Tristan had it, because they _needed _to **understand**. Tristan wasn't like Voldemort…obsessed with ruling the world…he was mad in a much more terrifying way…Tristan…Tristan just wanted to watch the muggle world _**burn**_. He hated so deeply, so fiercely, that trying to stop him would be like trying to stop an earthquake. Yet Harry knew that they _had_ to try because if they didn't…there was nothing stopping Tristan. Harry owed it to Hermione at least to try to save her parents…to try to save the world that they had both come from.

**~Leon~**

Leon tucked the Diadem into the folds of his cloak and left Hogwarts after another trail. His Prince knew that he could not merge the shattered pieces of this world's Voldemort's soul back together without hurting his beloved. However, this Voldemort's soul was so ragged…so small that he could barely function with any lucidity. Something that would not helped them in the slightest when dealing with the man and so Tristan had come up with another plan.

He sent Leon to gather the pieces he could, and when they had enough they would force Voldemort to wear the Horcux. The gathered pieces would not be merged back but they would be feeding Voldemort some of their energy…stabilizing the fragile man. Then Tristan could begin to negotiate with the man because they would need his cooperation. They could not leave Voldemort in this world when they moved on to collect more of the shattered pieces of his Prince's beloved…that would be counterproductive. So they needed Voldemort to come with them freely…something that would not happen if the man was too mad to even consider their offer.

He found the locket in the hands of a sniveling coward of a man, but he had a surprising amount of conviction that appealed to Leon's appetite. The man was nothing but a withered husk when Leon was done draining the light from him. The locket sparkled in his clawed hand and Leon turned to look at the white building in the distance. Leon would not tempt fate and steal from the Goblins…his Prince would be displeased but would understand. His winds unfurled and Leon shot up into the night sky.

**~Tristan~**

Tristan breezed through the Ministry like a ghost, footsteps silent as he moved with unimaginable grace into the Department of Mysteries. His eyes barely glanced at the room full of brains suspended in liquid, he paused briefly at the room with the Veil that whispered to him…calling out to him in yearning and finally stopped before the door to the Time room. Clocks ticked slowly, the sands of time glowed as it he entered traveling up the walls and floating past him in time hourglasses.

The destruction that Tristan remembered from Harry's memories was nowhere to be seen and it filled him with satisfaction. The issue had always been that there was not enough time for them to accomplish their task…his beloved had precious little time to wait for them to gather his scattered pieces. So Tristan stepped into the room and locked the door with a negligent wave of his hand…if he had no time to wait then Tristan would _**take time**_ for him.

The sands of time glowed and swirled around him pulsing with power like a heartbeat. It was delicate work, the emerald holding his beloved body in a golden light as the sands of time pressed in on it. Tristan voice murmured words in a language long forgotten, binding the magic of the sands of time to his beloved's body encased in the emerald. It took him all night but as the sun rose the last of the sand was swallowed up by the emerald that hung heavy around his neck.

His thoughts were trapped in the past…to a sunny afternoon in a study when Tristan had only been on his third life and his beloved had been carding his fingers through his hair. _Voldemort was reading as petted Tristan's hair as the boy laid in his lap staring at nothing. "Why didn't you let me die?" Tristan asked drawing Voldemort's attention away from his book to the boy in his lap. Tristan's new body had red hair and was slightly more delicate looking than his last one had been. _

"_I love you, so I could not let you die," Voldemort grunted out as if the words were painful to say. Tristan looked confused, "Madeline told me once that if you love someone you do anything to make them happy…I would have been happy in death," he said the question unsaid underneath his words. Voldemort heard it anyway and placed the book down so that he could focus his full attention on Tristan. _

"_I do not know how others love…only how I love...and I love selfishly. It does not matter that you would have been happy to die, you are __**mine**__, and I would not have been content with you gone. I gave you this gift of endless life because I could not live without you…my soul…" Voldemort said cupping his cheek gently. "It does not matter the form you take or where you go…I wish to have you forever at my side." He said as he kissed Tristan's forehead. _

"_What is there left for me here? The muggles are subdued, the world is flourishing, there is no one left to fight…I am not made for peace my love," Tristan admitted softly. _

"_Neither of us were made for peace, and yet we have it. Together we must find some way to adapt to this because we have eternity. Our love shall stand as all other things falls…you belong to me Tristan…as I belong to you…there is no other way for us." Voldemort said with uncharacteristic gentleness. _

"_And if you were to fall? How would I live in this endless hell without you," Tristan asked bitterly. _

_Voldemort chuckled, "I will never leave you, for you carry within you a piece of my very soul…should my body be destroyed we only need to make another one." He said confidently. _

_Tristan looked at him darkly, "And if someone destroyed your soul?" he asked just to spite his mockery of Tristan's fear._

_Voldemort looked at him contemplatively, "You would find a way to restore me…or you would discover a way to join me in the void. It matters little either way as long as you are with me." He said with finality. _

Tristan gripped the emerald at his neck, "I will see you whole once more my love…or I will see to it that I join you in oblivion." Tristan promised as the still air stirred around him. He was gone before anyone ever knew he was there and back to the Malfoy Manor. This world's Voldemort greeted him with a glower, eyes the color of spilt blood but body transformed into something befitting his station. Handsome, and yet Tristan was unmoved. This Voldemort was nothing in comparison to the one he had lost.

"We have much to discuss, you and I," Tristan said ominously.

"Yes, I believe we do," Voldemort hissed.

"It will have to wait, I have much to prepare and very little time. You will not hinder me and I will not kill your entire force, are we in agreement?" Tristan said blandly. Voldemort scowled but nodded leaving him.

Leon was waiting for him in with Alucard and Tristan barely paused before directing them to follow. "We have much to do, and precious little time." Tristan said as he brought his hand up to caress the emerald that glowed golden with the sands of time. "I have taken time for us but it will do us no good if we do not act as quickly as possible. This world needs to be taken care of before we can move on, and we will need this…broken Voldemort to join us in our journey. I dare not take the soul fragment from within him for fear of weakening the others in the transfer." Tristan said as he entered a forest.

"Leon, have you gotten what I asked you for?" Tristan said hand outstretched. A locket and a diadem were passed into Tristan's hand. Tristan paused in his journey to look at Leon questioningly.

"The cup is within Gringgotts, I expect you would be able to recover it easier than I will my prince," Leon said in answer to his unasked question.

Tristan nodded and tucked the two objects into his cloak. "We will have to stop by there then on our way to Avalon," Tristan said as Alucard's shadows wrapped around them. It was time to gather ingredients for his greatest work of magic…because this world had an infestation that needed to be cleansed. Once he had everything ready Tristan would address the broken Voldemort problem and see if he could find some way to gain his cooperation…or his obedience.

**~Harry~**

The sun had come up sometime during the time Harry had been reciting everything he knew about Tristan. His throat protested as he drank some much needed water and let them sit in silence. No one had said a word once he had finished…the gravity of what he had relayed to them was taking some time to sink in and Harry didn't want to say anything to interrupt their thoughts. Dumbledore was the first on to recover though he was pale and shaking as he offered everyone a lemon drop.

It was a testament to how shaken they all were that a majority of them accepted the offered candy. "What can we do?" Tonks asked looking as lost as they all felt.

"We can try to save as many as we can, I do not know when Tristan will strike…only that he will. We can try to get the famlies of the muggleborn into Hogwarts to protect them. The nature of Tristan's weapon doesn't target highly magical areas…they should be safe that way. If we can somehow warn the other schools…they might be able to do the same." Harry said strongly.

The gathered members nodded in agreement but Remus interrupted them. "Even if we get all of them into Hogwarts in time…we will face a lot of backlash from moving in here if Tristan strikes later than we expect he will. If the Ministry hears of this than they will move to stop us to protect their statute and we will not be able to stop them. Dumbledore is weakened, if the Ministry falls after all this…there would be no way to stop them from taking over." Remus said gravely.

"So we keep it secret, move them into the southern tower, it has been blocked off since the corridor collapsed in '86 if we clear the way and keep up the general belief that it is inaccessible then we shouldn't have any students stumbling onto the muggle families." Tonks suggested.

"Even if we did that we would still have to inform the Muggleborn students and it is unlikely we will be able to keep them all silent on this. Someone will find out," Minerva said seriously.

"Get them to swear oaths of secrecy then," Mad-eye grunted.

"They're children!" Molly said scandalized.

"It's the only way to insure that what we are doing doesn't get spread around. Its either that or leave the muggles to die," Made-eye said gruffly.

"I am afraid Alastor is correct," Dumbledore said gravely.

"We will do what must be done," Harry said firmly, "If I had been given a choice I would rather I have been bound by secrecy oaths that might cause me the loss of my magic…than to have lost my parents. It is only fair we give them that chance."

"How we will get them all together without drawing in suspicion?" Tonks asked.

"We will call in all the students, in groups, Half bloods and muggleborns. Tell them the rest it is counseling for the upcoming war because they will be doubtlessly targeted. The pure bloods will buy it." Harry suggested.

A murmur went up in the group, "That could work," Remus said.

As they discussed his idea and made plans Harry felt an odd sense of…pride. Finally they were taking him seriously, finally they had stopped treating him like a child and Harry wasn't too sure how he should feel about it all. On one hand he felt proud to have contributed to the war effort…on the other there was a lingering bitterness. These people talked about his life, made decisions about his life…without ever talking with him. Dumbledore had been manipulating him from day one and would probably continue to do so.

There was also a sense of futility about this…Tristan was powerful and Harry feared…unstoppable. Could they really hope to defeat him? Harry wanted to think that in spite of everything…that they would find some way to conquer this titan but at the same time…this was not Voldemort. This was not a man driven to insanity…mind shattered by his torn apart soul…this was a cold calculating foe that knew what he want and how to get it. Harry wondered what he could do…he was not Tristan…the path he had chosen in life hadn't been toward greatness…it had been towards normalcy.

Harry had wanted to be left alone and allowed to be just Harry. The world had given him task after task that had forced him to become _**more**_ than that. Harry knew he had the knowledge…he had the power…to make himself a match for Tristan…but did he want to do that? Because if he did that he would be placing himself in a role larger than any he had ever taken on before. Harry knew that he would have to fight Tristan not only in this world…but in any world Tristan went to in his search for his Voldemort. Harry wasn't sure if he had it in him to leave everything and everyone he had ever known to fight a foe he wasn't sure he could defeat. It was a question he would need to find an answer to before this battle over their world was done.

**A.N.: And here we are! Its heating up, can Harry be the warrior the light needs him to be? Even I don't know yet! Lol Please Read and Review and let me know what you think! **


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